


Practice, Finesse, and Expertise

by sarken



Category: Real News RPF
Genre: F/M, First Time, Porn Battle VIII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-13
Updated: 2009-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith and Rachel put in a little practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practice, Finesse, and Expertise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Porn Battle VIII prompt: _RPF, Keith Olbermann/Rachel Maddow, first, second_.

Three drinks and Rachel's feet in his lap make him bold, his finger slipping into her shoe and tracing the rise of her anklebone through the soft material of her argyle socks. "Have you ever?"

"Have I ever?" she repeats, shifting in her seat. She rests an arm on the back of the couch and sips her drink. "Yeah, I guess."

Keith chuckles as he unties her shoelaces. "If you have to guess, he was doing it wrong."

Rachel shrugs. "It was high school." Her little toe pokes through a hole in her sock, and Keith taps it lightly, his fingertip brushing the underside of her toe. "That we were doing it wrong goes almost without saying. But it felt good enough -- I mean, we were kids, you know?"

Keith slowly removes her sock, rolling the material down and sliding it off her foot. "And since then?" He drops the sock to the floor and starts on the other one, trailing a finger along her foot as he goes.

"Since then, it's been girls, girls, girls, if you'll forgive the Mötley Crüe." She rattles the ice around in her glass, letting it splash through the watered down bourbon that remains. She thinks about getting up for more when Keith presses his fingers near her heel, and she can't help but moan at the touch. Blushing, she tosses back the rest of her drink, concentrating on the faint warmth that spreads through her body. The bourbon, she tells herself, and she believes it enough to sound casual when she asks, "What are you doing down there?"

"Playing." His lips brush against her instep, making her gasp.

"Jesus, Keith. That's not playing."

"I can stop," he offers, setting her foot back in his lap. His hand slides down the length of it, following its delicate slope from ankle to toe.

"Don't you dare." She slides her other foot higher on his lap, toes curling loosely over the outline of his hardening cock. She smiles at him, one eyebrow raised. "You want to?"

Keith laughs and presses his erection against the sole of her foot. "Boy, you weren't kidding about not knowing what you were doing, were you?"

"That was twenty years ago," Rachel says, and then she's straddling his lap, kissing a trail from his forehead to his mouth. "I've learned a thing or two since then."

"I'll bet you have." His hand is on the back of her head, fingers sliding through her short hair as he forces her mouth back onto his, their tongues colliding when they both move to be the one to deepen the kiss.

Rachel wins out, chasing his tongue back into his mouth, her tongue on the other side of his teeth while they grind their hips together, Keith thrusting and rubbing his cock between her legs as she bears down against him. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, his shirt bunching under her hands, and she kisses him harder still, almost hurting him in those final seconds before she has to pull away to breathe.

She's grinning and breathless and still moving her hips when Keith's hands cover her breasts, and she moans and arches her back, pushing into his hands and panting encouragement. "Fuck," she laughs out as Keith kneads her breasts, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her shirt. Her hands slide down to his biceps and squeeze hard enough to draw his attention. "C'mon, Keith, this is -- this isn't twenty years ago. We can do better than good enough."

He grins at her, a dazed look in his eyes. "Is that your way of saying we should take off our pants?"

She shakes her head. "No," she says, sliding off the couch and undoing her belt buckle. She pushes her jeans and underwear down over her hips and lets gravity take it from there before climbing back onto his lap, reaching for his fly. "_This_ is my way of saying we should maybe take off our pants."

Her hand dips into his pants, her fingers wrapping around his dick for the briefest of seconds before she takes him into her body, the warmth of her cunt surrounding him. Her hips rocking lightly, just enough that Keith can still think, he slips his hand between their bodies, his fingers moving down through her pubic hair to brush over where their bodies are joined. The touch of his own hand catches him off guard and his hips jerk, thrusting his cock further into her. Surprised, she tenses, her muscles clenching around him, and she laughs when he moans.

"Hey," he says, pulling his hand away and swatting lightly at her hip, "don't laugh, not unless you want me to come."

"Admittedly, I'm not the expert here, but I thought that was the general idea," she says, lifting off him slightly before taking him back into her, almost hissing at the slow, easy press of him inside her.

"I think we're both supposed to, actually," Keith says, reaching for the hem of her shirt as Rachel moves to sneak her hand between their bodies. Their knuckles bump and they smile at each other, chuckling until her fingers brush the very base of his cock, making him shiver and push harder into her.

Rachel kisses him, sucking his lower lip between hers as she returns her hands to his shoulders and starts moving up and down on his cock, Keith straining to follow her, to stay inside her as long as possible. They find a rhythm briefly, holding onto it for only the shortest of moments before they lose it, Keith's hand getting between them, his thumb working her clit while they buck and thrust and grind against each other until the room around them blurs and falls away.

Keith is caught up in the scent of her, in the sound of her gasping and breathing, and there's the faintest pressure near the front of his forehead as he tries to hold back, tries to wait for her, his thumb starting to cramp as he focuses his attention on her clit, and then he feels it. Her mouth opens against his shoulder as she comes, and she's still trembling when he grabs her hips with both hands, holding her still and burying his face against her neck to breathe her in when he comes inside her.

Her hand is in his hair when the world comes back into focus, and he can't help but notice she's laughing. "What?" he asks, smiling because her laughter is infectious and because his cock is still inside her, feeling her laughter around him.

Rachel just shakes her head and grins. "That was -- that was fun, but, wow, I think we need some work in the finesse department because that really wasn't much of an improvement considering the twenty years thing."

Keith chuckles and tips them over onto the couch so they're face-to-face on their sides. He presses his nose against hers and says, "I'm more than willing to put in the practice, even if it takes another twenty years."


End file.
